Hopeless
by vandermarin
Summary: Everyone thinks Lydia Martin is in love with Stiles Stilinski. Little do they know, it's his girlfriend she caught feelings for.
1. Chapter 1

1

Lydia's POV

Everyone thinks I'm in love with Stiles Stilinski. That's probably because I stare at him and his girlfriend Malia Hale longingly as they walk down the hallway, and gaze at him in class. But, he's not the one on my mind.

I'm absolutely and totally in love with Malia Hale.

I stare at them in the hallways because the it's the only way I can cover up checking her out, since everyone thinks I'm looking at Stiles. And the gazes I give him in class are actually glares. Don't get me wrong, Stiles is a great guy, but it's hard to like the person that's dating the girl you're in love with.

Well, now you know.

I angrily cut the engine of my car, angrily got out of my car, angrily slammed the car door, and angrily stomped my way up to my front door. In case you can't tell, I'm very angry. Scott had just told me: " _Back off of Stiles. He's with Malia now."_ Thanks, Scott. Really, thanks so much for telling me I need to stay away from someone I'm not even interested in. I really appreciate it. Also, thanks for reminding me that they're together. It's not like my stomach ties itself into knots and my heart crushes into billions of pieces every time they're even mentioned or anything. I just love talking about it.

I growl to myself as I unlock my front door, slamming it behind me.

"Lydia Martin! What did I say about slamming doors?" I hear my mother's muffled voice yell from the kitchen. Oh, right. She's home from work early today.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to!" I lie as I rush up the stairs and close the door to my room quietly. I tossed my bag to the floor and flopped down on my bed, studying the strange pattern on my ceiling as my thoughts drifted to Malia. Her soft, brown-to-blonde hair, her stormy gray-blue eyes, her toned body, her smile, and of course, her lips. Her soft looking, plump red lips that would feel so good against mine. But Stiles gets them. Stiles gets all of it. Stiles gets _her._ And I can't do anything about it.

Shaking my head, I ripped my bright green eyes away from the ceiling and sighed before changing into white sweatshorts and a light blue crop top uneven at the shoulders. After changing, I threw my strawberry blonde hair into messy bun before opening my backpack and groaning at what I was getting myself into.

Homework.

And lots of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Around 6:00, the doorbell rings. After hours of trying to focus on textbooks and worksheets, the last thing I need is to have my mom gossiping loudly with one of the neighborhood moms. I hear the door creak open and muffled voices as my mom greets our visitor.

"LYDIA! IT'S FOR YOU!" She yells, much to my surprise.

"COMING!" I shout back, and as I stand up, I think about changing into something little more appropriate but decide against it, and walk out of my room and down the stairs. Immediately, I wished I had changed.

Malia Hale was standing in my doorway, soaked from the rain.

I looked around for my mom, but she was gone. But before I could say anything to Malia, Mom comes around the corner with a towel. Handing it to Malia, she looks into my eyes questioningly.

"So, do you mind telling me who this is?" she asks, and Malia gives me a look like, 'She knows I'm right here, right?'

"Um, Mom, this is Malia Hale. Malia, this is my mom," I introduce them awkwardly, and my mom stares at me.

"Hale? _Hale,_ Hale? Hale, as in, Peter almost-killed-you-on-a-lacrosse-field Hale?" She exclaims.

"That's my dad," Malia replies with a bitter chuckle. "I like to call him Satan in a v-neck, though. Easier to say." My mom looks at her.

"So I take it you aren't on the best terms with your father?"

"Well, when he almost murdered my best friend, it kind of put a little strain on our relationship."

"Best friend?" Mom questions.

"Uh, _yeah_ ," Malia returns in a 'duh'' tone.

"Okay, Malia, let's go to my room," I cut through the silence, dragging her up the stairs.

Time to find out what the hell she's doing here.


	3. Chapter 3

After we're safely in my bedroom, I close the door quietly so my mom has no reason to disturb us. I then dig through my closet until I find a white tee shirt and navy shorts similar to mine and throw them at Malia.

"So, why exactly are you here?" I ask her, and I'm glad I decided to talk before she took of her shirt, because when she did, my breath caught in my throat.

"Um, Stiles and I got in a fight, and I'm pretty sure we broke up," she confesses, pulling the dry shirt over her head and I refrain from throwing a party right then and there. "I didn't know where else to go, so I came here," she adds as she unbuttons her wet jeans and slips on the dry shorts. It takes everything in me not to stare at her.

"What do you mean, 'pretty sure'?" I ask.

"Well, I yelled, 'If you don't like my relationships with other people, then maybe we shouldn't be in one. Bye' and stormed out of his house. I think that's a break up."

"What were you fighting about?" I question as we both sit on my bed, backs to the headboard. She doesn't reply. "Malia." She stays silent. "Malia, tell me."

"You," she says quietly.

"Me? Why would you be fighting about me?"

"I may or may not be spending more time with you than I am with him," she informs me. "I just understand you better, I guess. I get what you say when you explain things to me. It's like, I don't know, you're better for me than he is." I stare at her. For a really long time.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," I reply, turning away from her. She knows there's more, of course, because she's Malia.

"Tell me."

"I'm fine!"

"Lydia Martin, don't make me tickle you." I remain silent. She sighs, and attacks my right side with a grin. I immediately try to squirm out of her reach, but it's too late. She's on top of me, between my legs, tickling me mercilessly.

"No! Stop!" I gasp, laughing uncontrollably as I try to swat her hands away. She stops, but remains on top of me, giving me a perfect view as to what's under her shirt, by the way.

"Okay, I stopped. Now tell me what's bothering you!'

"Nothing is bothering me!" I shoot back.

"Lydia."

"What?"

"Tell me what the hell is wrong."

"Nothing is wrong!" She sighs.

"I don't want to, but..." she trails off, smirking at me before tickling me again.

"Stop! Stop!" I manage to breathe out, laughing hysterically.

"What was that? I can't hear you," she replies. Returning her smirk, I gather what strength I have and wrap my legs around her waist, then roll around so I'm on top of her. I pin her arms down and look into her eyes.

"I said stop." She looks at me with surprise in her dark caramel eyes. Without realize what's happening, I notice her head start to tilt upward slowly. Then it hits me. She's going to kiss me. I make a snap decision and lean down, meeting her halfway and capturing her lips with mine. We kiss slowly, our lips moving in sync. I let her arms go and she immediately wraps them around me. Then, without any warning, she flips me over so she's on top of me again.

"But I don't want to," she whispers huskily, and it takes me a second to realize what she's referring to, but before I can reply, her lips are on mine again, and we roll sideways, neither on top of the other. She pulls me closer and deepens the kiss, and I place one of my hands on her face and the other on her waist. It was perfect.

And that was the moment my mother decided to open my door.


	4. Chapter 4

"Lydia, honey, does Malia want to stay for dinn- OH MY GOD!" Mom yells as she opens the door. She quickly exits, slamming the door as she leaves, probably unintentionally. I stare at the closed door, eyes wide and breathing hard, for a while before untangling myself from Malia and slowly making my way towards the door.

"Um, Mom?" I call, already seeing her facing a wall in the hallway, looking down and rubbing her head. She quickly snaps her head around to look at me with wide eyes.

"Lydia, please tell me I didn't see what I think I just saw." I look down at the ground. "Oh, god," she whispers.

"Mom, I-" I start, my eyes watering as I involuntarily shake.

"You what?" she cut me off. "Please tell me what could possibly make this okay." I keep my eyes trained on the ground. I want to tell my mom that I am absolutely and totally in love with Malia Hale, that the reason I go anywhere is because there's a chance I can see her, that she's the only thing on my mind every day, that every time I see her I forget how to breathe.

But I can't.

Because Malia is right on the other side of that door, most likely listening in.

So I continue to stare at the floor.

"Lydia, are you hearing me?" Mom shouts.

"Yes."

"Then please explain to me what in God's name I just saw." I decide that I'm not going to take her shit anymore.

"Nothing in God's name, that's for sure," I retort, and refrained from smirking because I can basically see my mom fuming with anger.

"Dammit, Lydia, just stop and tell me why you would do this! You know this isn't natural!" She yells, and the door of my bedroom creaks open.

"Um, Mrs. Martin?" Malia says, looking at my mom cautiously. Mom stares back at her with disbelief. "I just wanted to let you know, there's nothing wrong with what just happened. If Lydia was with a guy, you would've acted way differently." No shit, Malia. Please stop talking before you make this worse, I think. "Why does that fact that I'm a girl make it so 'not natural'? Because it says so in a 2000 year old book where snakes talk, people rise from the dead and a guy walks on water? If that's so, your source doesn't seem very reliable." She pulled it off. I struggle not to laugh at Malia's interpretation of the Bible, despite the fact that her argument was completely valid. My mom gapes at her, not knowing what to say. After about a minute of the three of us standing there awkwardly, I decide to get out of it.

"Okay, you know what, Malia, let's go," I say quickly, grabbing the girl's hand and practically dragging her down the stairs.

"Lydia Martin! Don't you dare leave this house with that girl! She's changing you! This isn't who you are!" My mom screams at me from the top of the staircase. I whirl around and stare up at her.

"Mom, I've been in love with Malia Hale ever since I laid eyes on her. Seeing her with one of my closest friends every day, kissing him and holding his hand, seeing that broke my heart every time. I wished it was me. And now, I hope, it is me. And, yes, maybe she did change me, but she didn't make me gay. I've always been gay and I always will be. Remember Allison? Yeah, the one that died. The one that I would not come out of my room for months mourning her, because she was my first love. And who was the one that pulled me out of depression? Malia. Malia did. And that's why I fell in love with her. She made me happy when no one else could, so I am going to leave this house with her because she changes me in the best possible way. She makes me happy. And you don't. I'm not choosing her over you, I'm choosing me. Bye, Mom."

With that, I marched out of my house hand in hand with Malia, slamming the door behind me.


End file.
